


A Losing Battle

by schmidtys



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Engy-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Pyro and Engy are bros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27071314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmidtys/pseuds/schmidtys
Summary: As Dell dragged his gaze across the dirty pile of clothes in the corner, the crumpled mess of blueprints littering his desk, and the soiled state of his work tools strewn across the floor, he found himself dropping back into the safety of his bed with a groan. The immense disappointment and frustration he felt towards himself clogged his throat but the bone-deep ache of exhaustion won out, treating Dell to the sweet release of dark nothingness.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	A Losing Battle

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Losing Battles - Josh Ritter. 
> 
> Un-beta'd and I don't know French but enjoy <3

Dell wakes up to the blaring drone of his alarm clock and the pitch dark of his quarters. One glance at the alarm clock on his desk lets him know that it's 6:00 am and, yes, it's time to get up for work. His stomach flips, a heavy pit of dread making itself known, as he just manages to sit up and turn off his alarm. 

The steel ball in his gut had started forming about a week ago as it sometimes did, making simple things like socializing with the team after a match or even just fixing himself dinner an ordeal. Despite his anxiety and exhaustion increasing throughout the week, he'd been able to drag himself out of bed and into his usual routine of getting dressed, breakfast, then the daily briefing that preceded heading off to work. As Dell dragged his gaze across the dirty pile of clothes in the corner, the crumpled mess of blueprints littering his desk, and the soiled state of his work tools strewn across the floor, he found himself dropping back into the safety of his bed with a groan. The immense disappointment and frustration he felt towards himself clogged his throat but the bone-deep ache of exhaustion won out, treating Dell to the sweet release of dark nothingness.

\---

Pyro was worried.

The kitchen was bustling with the sounds of chatter and silverware as most of the team dug into whatever breakfast they'd prepared themselves. Pyro was in their usual spot, with Spy to their right, but their left was void without Dell who would always perch beside them with his newspaper and oatmeal. 

Spy had been cold to them at first but that's how he'd treated all his new colleagues once upon a time. With years of practice in dealing with the rowdy, impulsive bunch that was their team, the Frenchman was nice enough but still kept his distance. Sure he'd entertain Pyro from time to time, stealing matches for them from the infirmary or helping them cook when it was their turn to make dinner. Considering that neither of them liked to talk much beyond surface level conversation, they got along just fine, great even! But their quiet and tentative friendship didn't hold a match to Pyro and Dell’s flowering friendship.

When they weren't at work blowing the other team away with bullets and flames, the two were nearly inseparable. Pyro loved watching Dell work in his shop, they always learned something new whether it was about the newest sentry prototype or whatever cheesey program that Dell fancied at the time. They would often help the Texan out, being on standby with whatever tool or part he needed next. When their conversations lulled, it was a comfortable silence that put Pyro at such an indescribable peace.

When Dell would call it for the day and tidy the organized chaos that was his workshop, Pyro would excitedly drag them to the common area where they would hang out. Drawing was one of Pyro's favorite hobbies, they weren't the best at it but Dell always had feedback or praise for whatever colorful scene Pyro drew. While Pyro preferred to draw their favorite animals and their teammates, Dell would work on intricate diagrams detailing the insides of his sentries. Pyro always wondered how he managed to make his renderings so clean despite using an old crayon. 

Sometimes they would join up with some of the team in a game or cardmatch. Pyro and Dell were professionals when it came to charades but Tavish and Jane were nearly invisible. Pyro didn't like playing cards despite their indisputable poker face but they'd make a fair attempt whenever Dell was itching to play. 

It’s all Pyro could think about as they poke at the bowl of sugary cereal in front of them. This whole week, they could feel something was  _ off _ with Dell. His bright, toothy smile wasn’t reaching his eyes and the usual pep in his voice was replaced with a hollow monotone. Pyro had tried to cheer him up, helping Dell clean up his workshop the other day and even sitting through one of his favorite films but it seemed to be of no avail. 

A tap on their shoulder makes Pyro jump and they turn to see Spy eyeing them, chewing on the end of one of his fancy cigarettes. 

“It seems your favorite Texan is a no show,” he says casually, finally stubbing the finished cigarette on his empty plate. 

Pyro just nods sadly and turns back to pick at their bowl of soggy cereal. 

“Any idea why?” 

“Hurr mph phrr, mphhr phhr mph hurr hurr.” Pyro sighs.

“Mmm.” From what Spy can gather from their muffled speech, Dell hasn’t been himself lately. 

Spy had actually picked up on this first the other night when the Texan had only managed to put together spaghetti for dinner instead of one of his elaborate dinners that included an appetizer and dessert. He’d written it off as tiredness at the time, considering the bad day they’d had at work but perhaps it was hinting at something else…

“I may go pay Dell a visit.” Spy said, pushing himself from the table with practised ease.

Pyro perked up at this, cereal forgotten, and snagged one of Spy’s hands before he slipped away. 

“Hurr murr phrr!” 

The touch surprised Spy and he tore his hand from Pyro’s grip, wiping it on his pressed slacks with a grimace. 

“Fine, come if you must,” Spy sighed, heading for the kitchen door. 

Excited to go see their friend and get to the bottom of what was wrong with him, Pyro jumps up from the table, deposits their bowl in the sink, and makes a beeline for the door. 

“‘Ey, uh, where ya goin’!” Scout calls from the other end of the dinner table. Medic and Heavy are also looking at Pyro with matching quizzical expressions as the rest of the team chats amongst themselves. 

“Hurrr...murr hurr phrr hurr mphuphrr hurr phrr!!” Pyro says, the words rushing out in a hurried, garbled manner. 

“What the hell’d they say?” Scout stage whispers to Heavy on his right. Heavy just glares at him and flicks his arm with such a force that Scout hisses and rubs at the spot. Medic sighs before responding.

“Vell let me know how he is… missing breakfast is quite unusual for him.” 

Pyro nods vigorously before bolting from the room to catch up with Spy. They find him halfway to Dell’s quarters and they fall in step with the Frenchman. Spy’s long, languid stride belay his collected manner and it makes Pyro feel a bit less nervous to have him with them. 

“Murrphrphurr phrr hurr murrphm?” Pyro asks as they wring their hands. 

Spy must pick up on Pyro’s nerves as he gives Pyro a full fledged response instead of snark: “I suppose we will have to wake him up, if he’s just slept in then that’s that. If he’s unwell we will leave him be and get monsieur medic.”

Pyro mulls over what Spy said, worrying about what will happen if Dell really is sick. They’ll almost definitely lose to BLU without Dell in the field, not to mention how upset Pyro would be without Dell to talk to while defending the base. It’s not that they won’t hangout with their other teammates, it’s just not the same without Dell.

Before they know it, they’re in front of Dell’s door and Pyro’s nerves are through the roof. Luckily, Spy is as calm as ever and knocks on the door without hesitation before calling for the Texan.

“Hello, are you awake in there?”

\---

Dell fades back to consciousness as someone raps on the door. He’s rubbing at his sore eyes when he hears a familiar voice call from the other side. 

_ Is that Spy?  _ Is all his sluggish brain can wonder before the man himself cracks the door and slinks inside his quarters. Dell, at a loss for words, blinks up at him owlishly as the man leans against his desk and gives Dell a once over. 

“How are you?” Spy says, picking a cigarette from his inner jacket and placing it in his mouth. He whips out his lighter and takes a moment to light his cigarette, giving Dell a chance to properly process what he’s said.

“Fine.” Is the monosyllabic response he produces. 

“Mmm. You don’t seem fine,” Spy responds calmly. There’s no fire, no accusation to his words, just observation. Dell comes to this conclusion slowly but he has no response to give. 

There’s a minute or two where Dell spaces out as Spy puffs on his cigarette. His limbs feel like lead when he attempts to move them and his thoughts flit around in his mind to a point where he can barely focus on the fact that Spy is still in the room. He’s almost decided to fall back to sleep,  _ What’s the point in being awake for this? _ , when a shuffling across the room prompts him to look up. 

Pyro is attempting to pick up all his dirty clothes at once, the pile absolutely filling their arms. Guilt, hot and painful, seeps into Dell and he can feel himself choking up.

“C’mon now, ya’ don’ hafta do that, what’re ya’ doing…” Dell doesn’t remember Pyro coming in and the reality of the situation is hitting him finally.  _ Spy and Pyro are in my quarters and trying to clean up, what the fuck has my life come to? _

Spy crouches down to Dell’s level, catching his eye and holding a level gaze. There seems to be concern in his eyes but Dell could be mistaken. 

“We want to help you, mon amie.” Spy murmurs. Before Dell can protest, Spy slips off one of his gloves and holds the back of his hand to Dell’s forehead. Once again, Dell is speechless- he’s never seen Spy uncover any part of his body, let alone his gloves. His brain is effectively mush at the moment but Dell can recognize the levity of the situation, the trust that Spy is bestowing upon him. 

_ Guess it’s only fair that I return the favor. _

“Well, you’re not feverish,” Spy concludes, retracting his hand but leaving it uncovered for the time being. He cocks on his eyebrows at Dell, prompting him for any response at all. 

Internally grateful for the pace in which Spy is taking this at, Dell formulates an explanation for his concerned colleague. 

“I’ve uh… been really tired lately. And, uhm. Nervous? Like, just, very antsy.” He fumbles on his words but they slowly make their way out. Spy just nods along, likely dissecting and contextualizing each word but Dell could care less.

“And, I- I dunno. It just didn’t… it didn’t seem worth it to get out of bed today. Thought I’d call in sick.” He finishes weakly. Saying the words out loud makes the whole ordeal seem downright stupid to Dell. This is his job that’s on the line for christ sake, of course he couldn’t just call in sick when your job is to obliterate the other team. His team would suffer without him; without his defensive chops, everyone else would have to pick up his slack and work twice as hard. Dell can’t believe how selfish he would be to put himself before his teammates, his  _ friends _ , being tired simply wasn’t an excuse for abandoning his team when they needed him most. 

_ What if they don’t need you? What if they’re fine without you? _

Perhaps scarier than letting his team down is being the burden that holds them back. Before the lead ball in his gut can grow any larger, Spy places his hand atop Dell’s, bringing him back from his spiral. He realizes that someone is speaking to him, though it starts muffled before becoming clearer as time passes. 

“Hey, hey, it’s quite alright. Dell. Mon amie. It’s alright, I promise. I’ll contact monsieur Medic and see if you can’t have a sick day, yes?” Spy’s thumb rubs soothing circles across his knuckles, grounding him further from his unhelpful thoughts.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good.” Dell breathes out. When he was hit with a day like this, mostly on weekends when he was actually allowed to wallow, he was usually alone. This is… different, but not actually  _ bad _ . Dell tracked Pyro as they finally gathered all the clothes and deposited them into a laundry basket, humming all the while. They hoisted the basket up and turned to face Dell from the far corner of his bed. 

“Mphh hurr phhrmphurr.” They said quietly. Dell’s eyes crinkled and he managed to smile at his friend, grateful for their patience with him right now.

“Ok. Thank you for-I...I really appreciate it.” Dell murmured sincerely. Pyro just giggles softly and shrugs, signalling to Dell that Pyro has no problem with the situation at all. Picking up where they left off, they begin humming again and cheerfully make their way out of the room. Spy is still crouched beside Dell’s bed, rubbing circles onto his hand. If Dell had to guess how long Spy had been in his room, he couldn’t really say but Spy knows it’s been around 20 minutes at most. The Frenchman spares a glance at his wristwatch and knows that it’s about time for him to depart unless he wants the Administrator to tear his head off, he shivers thinking about the last time that had happened.

“Alright, monsieur, I have to go but I will go see Medic, yes?” Spy gives his hand one last pat before rising to his feet gracefully, slipping his glove back on in the process. 

“Will you be ok until we return from work?” Spy’s gaze is serious, glinting with genuine concern. Dell almost chokes up at the guilt of making them all worried about him but he tries to remind himself that he  _ will _ be ok, at least for now. He’s already thoroughly exhausted from this interaction and can feel his brain begging to be unconscious. 

“Yeah, I’m ok. I’m just gonna, uh, go back to sleep.” He holds back the  _ If that’s ok with you _ that he wants to tack on to the tale end of his response but he knows Spy will only brush off his insecurity with kindness and he feels guilty enough garnering what he’s already received. 

“Sounds like a plan. Dormez bien, monsieur.” Spy responds. As he saunters back to the room’s entrance, a beat up record player catches his eye. One glance at the collection of vinyls sitting next to the device informs Spy of Dell’s well-known love for country, blues, and bluegrass music. Spy can’t stand the genres himself but considers the vinyls all the same. He eventually decides on a vinyl that seems to include a smattering of artists, shaking the disc from it’s sleeve and placing it on the turntable. Grasping the tone arm, he places the needle on the record and switches the device on. A lilting melody of string instruments and a banjo fill the room before Spy turns the volume down until the music is just a quiet hum of sound. 

With the record player on, Spy spares Dell one last glance before slipping out the door and shutting it with soft click. 

Dell recognizes the song, drowsily attempting to parse the lyrics from the melody before drifting into unconsciousness. 

  
  


_ Tis sweet to be remembered on a bright or gloomy day _

_ Tis sweet to be remembered by a dear one far away _

_ Tis sweet to be remembered remembered, remembered _

_ Tis sweet to be remembered when you are far away _

**Author's Note:**

> The song Spy put on is 'Tis So Sweet to Be Remembered - Mac Wiseman.
> 
> I plan to do one more chapter to resolve some things. Kudos and comments/feedback are appreciated!


End file.
